Murphy's Law
by the-great-snape-debate
Summary: Six years before the start of Gotham, Oswald is desperately looking for a job. With no friends and no acquaintances, getting a job in Gotham isn't so easy. That is until he meets a woman willing to give him a chance at employment ... And perhaps that chance will lead to a relationship he didn't expect, but sorely needs.
1. The Orientation

Two hundred seventy six. That's how many interviews he's had in the past three months. That's how many times he'd been rejected within the first minute, if he even made it past the door.

Two hundred and seventy seven … He took a deep breath as he walked under the construction scaffolding covering the sidewalk and stopped in front of the small club. This was two hundred and seventy seven … No matter how many places were open in Gotham …. He was becoming desperate, and running out of options.

The pink glow of the neon fish bones shone surprisingly bright in the early morning light. The short thin man stood in front of the sign, looking at it with trepidation as he clutched his resume tighter in his trembling hands, creasing the pages in multiple spots.

He took a deep, shaky breath as he walked towards the door, smoothing out his thrift store suit and brushing his long, choppy hair out of his face. He reached the door and pushed but the door didn't open. He fidgeted more as he looked around the street, feeling even more nervous. He smiled nervously as a man passed by him, giving him an odd look.

When the man had passed Oswald turned back towards the door and knocked. He played with the paper in his hands again before brushing his hair out of his face again.

No one answered the door. A few moments later he raised his hand again to knock, but before his knuckles could hit the wood the second time the door opened outwards so quickly Oswald was smacked in his beak-like nose and sprawled out onto the wet cement.

A bigger man in a suit looked down at him and shook his head. "Door opens outwards kid." He said, twisting the handle as if to show him it was open.

"R-right … Of course." Oswald said standing up and brushing the wet dirt from his suit and smiling nervously, his brown teeth making the man cringe slightly.

"What do you want kid?" The man asked.

"I-I-I-" He stuttered, trying to get the words to come out.

"Spit it out …" The man said leaning heavily on the door frame. Oswald swallowed loudly and held his paper out to him.

"I-I-I'm looking for a job. I was wondering if y-you were hiring?" He asked still holding out his paper. The man looked down at it but didn't take it from him.

"You're looking for a job?" The man asked. "Here?" Oswald looked away from the bigger man, trembling even more than he was before.

"Y-y-y-yes sir." He said, still holding out the paper.

The man looked him up and down before stepping away from the door frame. "Alright …. I'll get you in to see Fish Mooney … She's watching some auditions right now … But I'll tell her you're here." He said as Oswald stepped into the small club.

"Th-thank you." He said holding his resume in both hands again. He stood in the doorway as the bigger man walked over to a table in front of the stage, bending to her ear to whisper something to her.

"Fine, send him in," Fish responded with a dismissive wave of her expertly manicured hand. She was almost finished with auditions today anyway… There had been no promising talent this morning in any case. It was as if every amateur dancer in Gotham had conspired to waste her time.

Butch waved him in and Oswald came into the room, his resume held even tighter in his trembling hands.

"H-h-hello … Miss. Mooney." He said hating how his voice was shaking as badly as he was. "I-I-I was really hoping … well …"

Fish gave the pathetic, ragged-looking young man before her an incredulous look. She really needed to have a talk with her security staff about screening job applicants. Butch did a fine job neutralizing threats… but identifying time-wasters was, evidently, beyond him. Still… this odd, nervous little man had mustered up the guts to come in here in the first place, even though he was so clearly ill-suited to work here… That alone piqued her curiosity.

"Stop," she held up a single finger. "Breathe. Then try again." The way he was stammering was just embarrassing to watch.

Oswald smiled nervously again. "Well I-I-I …" Stammered again. He paused and took a deep breath trying to still his trembling but it just got worse if that had been possible. "Iwaswonderingifyouwerehiring." He said quickly before he had a chance to stutter again.

"You and everybody else," said Fish wryly. Which still didn't explain what in the world made this bundle of nerves think he'd do well here. She gestured to the paper he was clutching as if for dear life. "Is that your resume?" she asked, holding out her hand.

"Y-Yes ma'am." He said holding out the crumpled piece of paper which had become partially wet when he'd landed on the cement outside.

Fish took hold of the paper lightly, as if it might be contaminated with something, her eyes scanning over his mediocre education section and nonexistent experience.

"Look," she said, then glanced at his name on the paper. "Oswald…"

 _Oswald?_ What had the boy's parents been thinking? The last name, though… that made her pause. She frowned slightly. "Do you have any work experience at all? What kind of job exactly do you think you're going to find here?"

Oswald opened his mouth to answer, but couldn't find the words. He looked like a fish caught on land for a moment before he smiled nervously again. "Well … I don't really but … Please, give me a chance. I-I-I'll do anything. I've applied at almost three hundred other places and this is the longest interview I have ever had. Please …. I'll do anything. M-m-my mother … She's going to lose her apartment. We're going to lose everything we have … We'll end up on the streets. Please, I-I-I … I'm desperate."

She gave him a skeptical look. "So, you're telling me that working for me is a last resort? I have a reputation for many things, but charity isn't one of them." Desperation was hardly a skill or qualification… though it could potentially translate into loyalty. But, looking at Oswald, it was hard to see any real potential in him. And then there was the matter of that last name.

Oswald looked shocked at her assumption, he hadn't meant to make it sound that way. "No, no no no … I-I-I just heard about this place last night. I didn't even know about it …. It's not a last resort it's …." He paused and looked at Butch for help who held his hands up in mock surrender, Oswald was on his own. "I know you don't run a charity but …. I'll do anything … Anything you ask, just tell me and it'll be done. No hesitation."

Fish Mooney raised an eyebrow. "That's not a promise to make lightly… But even so, saying you're willing to do something means nothing if you're not qualified to do it. This place isn't for you. You're going to have to look elsewhere." She motioned for Butch to show him out.

"No. No no no no." He said quickly falling to his knees, his hands taking one of hers. "Please. Please I'll do anything. Give me anything, let me prove myself I-I-I can be loyal … I'm obedient …. Just get me to do something I can prove to you I can be useful. Please!"

Fish stared at him for a moment, taken aback by this sudden, unseemly display of groveling. She had thought he was pathetic before, but this… this was just pitiful. This man clearly had no idea of how to present himself to others, as if he'd never been taught to control how others perceived him. Given the last name, she had started to suspect that he had been sent here, and that this was all an act… but was it really possible to fake being this pathetic? Fish pulled her hand away from him. "Stop," she said firmly. "Get off the floor. You're embarrassing yourself." She waited to see whether he would comply.

Oswald let go of her hand when she pulled it away and he stood up, straightening his suit again. "I … My apologies Miss. Mooney I-I-I-" He paused and looked down at the ground. "Thank you for your time." He said, his voice suddenly less shaky. He brushed his hands on the old material of his suit as he walked away from Mooney towards the exit.

Fish watched him start to walk away, and then said: "Wait. I might be able to find a use for you after all."

Oswald turned back to her, wondering if he'd misunderstood what she'd said. "What?" He asked stunned.

Fish smirked slightly. She could hardly blame him for being surprised… She had hardly expected it herself. "I said I might have a use for you. Come back tonight at eight for a trial orientation. I'll decide then if you're a suitable fit for the job."

Oswald didn't know what to say at first before he smiled. "Eight o'clock. Sure … I-I-I I mean Thank you … I won't let you down. What ever it is … It'll be done." He said looking quite happy that she was giving him a chance. "Thank you." He said as Butch grabbed him by the arm and practically dragged him to the door.

"Come back at Eight, do not be a minute early or late …. Eight o'clock sharp." He said as Oswald turned to say something Butch shut the door in his face.

"Butch," said Fish, once Oswald was gone. "I have a little assignment for you. Find out whether William Cobblepot is any relation to our new acquaintance. If he is… find him and bring him here in time for Oswald's orientation."

"Of course Fish." He said smirking as he left the room.

o0o0o0o0o

Oswald took a deep breath as he stood in front of the club that seemed to be in full swing. A few people brushed past him and entered the club, ignoring the strange man. He swallowed loudly before he stepped into the club at exactly eight o'clock. As Butch had said not a minute before or after …

When he entered Butch looked up at him and glanced down at his clock. "You know …" Butch said coming around the front counter and walking towards Oswald. "I didn't think you'd take me seriously. How long did you stand outside staring at your watch for?" He asked taking in Oswald's soaked appearance. It was raining outside and it looked like the kid had been out there for a while.

"F-Fifteen m-minutes." He said shivering slightly. Butch shook his head.

"You could have come in." He said looking over Oswald. "Come on …. Fish is waiting for you downstairs. I'll take ya." He said leading him towards the basement. Oswald followed him through the noisy club, a band playing on the stage loudly. He wasn't sure how anyone could eat dinner and have a conversation around the noise. He followed Butch downstairs into the large open basement, freezing on the spot at what he saw.

In the middle of the room, a bruised and bloody man was tied to a chair. Fish Mooney stood next to him, idly playing with a knife in her hand. "Right on time, I see," she said, smirking slightly. "We can add punctuality to your list of possible qualifications, at least." She sauntered forward, the fabric of her evening gown rustling slightly as she moved, visually out of place with the rest of the scene, but she seemed completely at ease. "You'll have to forgive my unorthodox methods, Oswald," she said. "It's just that, as I came across your name on your resume, I couldn't help remembering that there was also a William Cobblepot, so I did a little research…" She looked back at Oswald, watching his reaction. "You didn't mention that your brother worked for Maroni."

Oswald stared at William, a sneer clear on his face. "We haven't spoken in years … I wasn't aware he was even still alive." He said. "I thought he'd gone the way of Robert and Jason …" He said barely remembering a small news article about his two other brothers, one had died of a drug overdose in a back alley, the other had been murdered in a hotel with some whore. His mother had been heartbroken of course, but always the dutiful son, he had been there for her.

"I see," said Fish, the last hint of a smirk fading away to leave only blank neutrality. Of course, she could hardly trust his sincerity just yet. But she would see soon enough. "That might make this a little easier on you, then. Given my clientele, I can't take on employees with any connection to Maroni. You understand, of course. It's a matter of loyalty." She pressed the knife into Oswald's hand, now while he was still stunned from what he was seeing, and then moved away to the side, knowing that Butch would take him down if he tried anything. "You told me this morning that you could be loyal," she said softly. "That you would do anything I asked of you. Show me that now, and the job is yours."

Oswald looked down at the knife that was now heavy in the palm of his hand. "W-" He looked at Mooney as William struggled against his binds, "What do you want me to do?" He asked.

William stared at the large knife in Oswald's hand. "No. Please … Pengui-" He paused when he realized what he was about to call him. It had been years of calling him that, he almost forgot what his real name was. "Oswald please …. Please …. I … I'm not like Robert and Jason … I'm not like them you remember? When I helped you. I stopped Jason and Tommy-"

"You helped me because you knew if Jason and Tommy broke my hands I wouldn't be able to do your homework for you." He said, his hand clenching on the knife handle.

"I know … I'm sorry about all that but please, Peng … Oswald. Don't do this ... "

"You got a choice Penguin." Butch said, finding the nickname rather fitting for the freakish little man. "Kill him, or I'll kill him and you're back out on the street."

"He hardly sounds like he was much of a brother to you in the past," Fish said in an off-handed tone, though she was watching Oswald very closely the whole time. "But more importantly… why are you the only one worrying about your mother's financial situation? William already has a job working for Maroni." She tilted her head to look down at William who, at the moment, somehow looked even more pathetic than Oswald had before. "Perhaps, in your defense, William, you can give your brother a reason why you haven't done anything to help your own mother?"

"I ... I ..." William looked up at Oswald. "She was no mother of mine." He said angrily. "She had always been too busy coddling you ... Her perfect freakish boy. Her little baby Penguin!" Oswald's sneer deepened. "Why should I take care for her when she never cared for me." Oswald's sneer deepened as William spoke. As soon as the man's words were out he realized what he'd said and seemed to back off slightly. "I ... I didn't ..." But he knew the deal was done. He'd sealed his own fate.

Fish walked around to stand behind Oswald, her hand over his which held the knife. Her mouth neared his ear as she whispered to him.

"Do it ... My little penguin."

Oswald groaned in frustration and Mooney had to jump back as Oswald lashed out the knife digging into flesh as he thrust it into William's abdomen.

William cried out in pain as Oswald pulled the knife back out again and looked down at him.

"Good," Fish said encouragingly. The blow was far from fatal, however. Either Oswald still had some remaining qualms about attacking his wayward brother or, far more likely, he had never killed before. "The first strike is the hardest," she said softly. "Go on now, and finish him."

Oswald looked at Mooney for a moment before looking down at his brother who was howling in pain, tears streaming down his face. Oswald could feel the warm slickness of blood on his hand where he'd stabbed him and found it oddly ... Pleasant.

He pressed the tip of the knife against Williams heart, one hand gripping the handle the other flat against the end.

"You should have been nicer." He said ever so slowly pressing the knife into his chest. It was almost a minute of loud screaming before the hilt hit flesh and the knife was fully embedded into his chest. A few seconds later and William stopped screaming and stilled in his chair.

Oswald let go of the knife, the hilt still sticking out of the man's chest as he stepped back ... He couldn't believe how good that felt.

"Hey .." He heard Butch say. "Looks like Penguin enjoyed that a bit too much." He said as Oswald turned on him. "You got a bit of a boner there kid." He said laughing.

Oswald looked down and was partially surprised. Butch was right, his cock was straining against his pants. Oswald turned slightly so that his jacket hid it.

Fish smiled in amusement. "I must admit… I hadn't expected you to enjoy your orientation assignment quite so much." She was glad now that she had given this strange, snivelling little man a chance to prove himself. As it turned out, he was indeed obedient, and his brother had proved to be no threat to his loyalty at all. He was inexperienced, certainly, and she would need to coach him on how to better present himself. But he had far more potential than she'd thought. Not only would he kill, if she asked him to, but he would also enjoy it.

"Well ... I-I-I ... He'd bullied me quite brutally growing up ... I ..." He paused wondering if he should tell her. "I always fantasized about what that would be like." He said looking down at the warm blood on his hand.

"And now you don't have to fantasize," Fish said, brushing her fingertips lightly over his cheek, just to see how he would react. He was a repulsive little man, really, but strangely fascinating in his own way.

Oswald sucked in a breath and froze when her fingernails touched his cheek, and his cock twitched in his pants, straining harder against the material.

A satisfied hint of a smirk settled onto Fish's face. Oh, he was far too easy to tease. Having him around could prove entertaining as well as useful. She let her fingertips trail down to his chin, before stopping to adjust the collar of his shirt, which had gotten slightly crooked during the stabbing. "Congratulations," she said. "You're my new umbrella boy."

Butch looked at her confused. Umbrella boy?

Oswald seemed at a loss for words. He got a job? "Th ... Thank you Miss. Mooney." He said, still a bit stunned and confused by the entire situation.

"But first," she said, giving him a quick glance up and down. "You'll need to go and get cleaned up… I can't have you walking around covered in blood. There are rooms on the top floor where you can wash up."

"B-but ... Your customers ... They'll see me and -"

"You'll be fine." Butch said. "No one here will even pay you any attention let alone tell anyone." He said putting a hand on Oswald's shoulder and leading him towards the door.

Oswald nervously walked through the club and to the stairs which were located on the other side of the room. True to Butch's word no one even glanced at him. He headed upstairs and to one of the empty rooms.

He looked down at his pants which were still tented though less so than before and sighed. He had to get a hold of himself. He locked the door and moved into the bathroom to take a cold shower.

Fish let Butch take care of disposing of the body, and went about the business of greeting customers and overseeing the club as usual. After allowing what she deemed a reasonable amount of time for Oswald to wash off the blood, and possibly wrap his mind around what had just happened, she made her way up the stairs after him. If she was going to be seen with him on a regular basis, something had to be done to make him look at least a little more presentable. And, given the wretched state he'd arrived in, she didn't trust anyone but herself to do it.

Oswald wrapped a towel around his waist and moved out of the bathroom, flicking the light off and nearly jumping when he caught sight of Miss. Mooney standing there with a pair of silver scissors.

He looked at his clothes which sat on the bed a few feet behind her and cleared his throat, adjusting the towel so it was more secure around his waist.

"Miss. Mooney ... I-I-I-"

"Relax," said Fish, moderately annoyed. Though she kept encountering him when he had reason to be nervous, she was starting to suspect that Oswald's stuttering was a chronic problem. "You don't have anything I haven't seen before." Though he was without a doubt the scrawniest, most miserable excuse for a man she'd ever laid eyes on. But that was neither here nor there. "If you're going to be working for me, we'll need to work on your image. You'll excuse me for being blunt, but you're well overdue for a decent haircut."

She had no idea what bizarre set of circumstances had led to the mess that had wandered through her door, but the poor man looked like someone had tried to shove his head in a garbage disposal. Had the problem been less severe, Fish might have left him in the hands of one of her employees, but this would be well beyond most of their capabilities.

"Y-yes ma'am ... I can g-get it cut tomorrow morning ... There's a barber just down the street from me. I-I-" He was rambling and he knew that but really all he wanted to do was put his clothes back on.

Fish held up one finger against Oswald's lips to get him to stop stammering. "Oswald," she said flatly. "I highly doubt that the average barber would know what to do with this ... mess. Now, sit down and let me try to salvage something out of this wreck." There was really no tactful way to put it.

Oswald looked as if he wanted to say something again but stopped himself. He sat in the desk chair that had been pulled out already, holding his towel with his hand so it wouldn't slip or fall out of place. His face was red with embarrassment. No one had seen him this undressed except his mother.

Even in the high school swim class he'd worn a t shirt.

Fish circled him briefly, getting a better look at the back and sides, then stood in front of him, reaching forward and tilting his chin upward, looking at the way that his hair fell around his strange, pointed face, closely examining what she had to work with. Finally, she started cutting, with a careful eye for measuring the length in different places as she went. With what she had to work with, there was no way to make his hair come out even, but she could at least make it look as if someone had planned this style on purpose.

Oswald sat nervously, his eyes closed as she cut his hair. His hands clutched his towel as he heard the scissors hiss with each cut. He hated getting his hair cut ever since he was a kid ... When his father Tucker had demanded he get a haircut but wouldn't give him the time to do so around all his chores. His father had dragged him into the garage and cut all of his hair off with a pair of shears so carelessly that Oswald still had scars from where he'd nicked him.

He hated how much he was teased at school for months after that, being told he looked like he belonged in a concentration camp.

"You really don't like this, do you," Fish observed. It was painfully obvious. "You're in good hands, though, I assure you." She carefully scrutinized her work so far in the front, and decided that it was about as presentable as it was going to get, before moving around to the side and starting to trim as well as she could. As she did, she began to notice occasional scars, as if he'd been haphazardly nicked with a blade here and there on the side of his head, the back of his neck… they were very old scars, to judge from their appearance, but once she noticed the first few and began to look for them, she found that they were everywhere. When running a hand through his hair to better judge the length of one section, she thought she might have felt another scar along his scalp. There were probably a few more hidden in this mess that she couldn't see. Well. That certainly explained a little about this peculiar man.

"I see you've had a few bad haircuts before," Fish said softly. Already, she had collected some very personal information on him. She had witnessed him commit murder, which she could always bring up again if his loyalty ever wavered. She knew about his impoverished mother, his history of severe bullying at the hands of his brothers, and now this. Overall, the information she'd gathered painted a very pitiful picture of the "Penguin." This man's life evidently had nowhere to go but up.

"Well ... I ... Uh ..." He wasn't sure if she wanted an explanation on how he got them. He doubted she cared though and stopped talking as she moved to the back of his hair.

"That's alright," she said dismissively, as she continued to snip away at the mess on his head, gradually bringing some semblance of form out of the chaos. "I don't need to know the circumstances." She already got the basic picture. "Whatever happened, you will need to overcome it. Appearance is extremely important in any business. A large part of success is simply being able to influence how others perceive you… And you work for me now. The way that you present yourself should reflect that." No doubt presentation had been a large part of his trouble finding a job in the first place.

"O-Of course, Miss. Mooney." He said trying to relax his hands and realizing that his towel had slipped just slightly. It wasn't revealing anything but it still made him a bit uncomfortable so he fixed the towel quickly.

Fish smirked slightly as Oswald adjusted his towel, but decided not to comment on it for the moment. She continued carefully cutting his hair, taking her time until, finally, she was satisfied that she had made his hair look as presentable as possible. He was still pretty odd-looking, but there was nothing to be done about that.

"That will do for now," she said, dusting off some of the hair that had fallen onto Oswald's pale scrawny shoulders. "There. That wasn't so bad, was it?"

Oswald tensed when she touched his shoulders. "N-No …" He stammered. He wanted to go to the mirror to see what his hair looked like. He couldn't imagine her being able to do anything that resembled normal, not since his mother tried to cut his hair and only succeeded in shaving the sides and turning it into a three layered mess. "Th-thank you Miss. Mooney. That was … M-most generous of you." He said, his hands shaking again.

"Think nothing of it," Fish said dismissively. Hadn't she already made it clear that this was about image, not generosity? But if he wanted to be grateful, she was inclined to let him. That might be useful later. She continued to brush off his shoulders, then down his back just a little ways, amused by how tense he was. She didn't think she had ever met anyone quite so easy to toy with. "Why don't you go take a look in the mirror and see what you think?" she said, finally stepping back, allowing him some space.

Oswald shivered as she ran her hand down his back. "I-I'm sure it looks … I'm sure you did a good job." He said nodding up at her.

"Then why are you still so tense, I wonder?" Fish asked with the smallest hint of a smile, setting the scissors down on the desk and stroking a hand down Oswald's thin, pale chest. "You really need to relax. Learn to project a little confidence, or no one will ever take you seriously."

"I-I-I …" He stuttered as she ran her hand over his chest. He could feel his cock swelling again as she touched him and he shifted trying to use the towel to hide it. "I'm sorry I …"

"Hush," said Fish. "If I want you to apologize for something, I'll tell you so. Otherwise, don't waste your breath on it." Her hand continued to trail lower, past his far too visible rib cage, over his stomach, down to the edge of the towel. "Do you understand?"

Oswald looked down at her hand and swallowed nervously. What was she doing? He opened his mouth to apologize again but stopped himself. "Yes, ma'am." He said quietly, his voice catching in his throat.

Fish smirked at his nervousness. By now, he had to have formed some idea of where this might be going, but still he continued to sit there passively, as if frozen in place. She slipped her hand under the towel he'd been so anxious to hold in place, as if it meant nothing, watching to see how he would react.

Oswald shifted slightly on the chair, his hands going to the seat. "Wh- … Don't …" He whispered, nudging himself away from her hand but having nowhere to go. Not wanting to go against what she was doing … He had after all promised her anything.

Fish raised an eyebrow. "'Don't'?" she repeated, her hand slowly inching further down. "Why? Are you afraid of me, Oswald? After what you've already seen and done this evening, is this what frightens you?"

Oswald didn't say anything for a few moments, closing his eyes trying to compose himself. "I … No … It's just … I …."

"It's just you what?" asked Fish, tilting her head as she looked down at him, watching just how flustered the poor man was becoming. She wondered whether he actually had anything coherent to say.

Oswald said nothing, not sure of what to say at this point. If he stopped her it could make her angry, or worse, fire him … If she continued …. He kept his eyes closed as her hand remained on his abdomen just below the hem of the towel. He couldn't fathom why such a beautiful woman would want to touch him in such a way and couldn't help but wonder what ulterior motive she had for doing this.

Fish moved her hand further down, coming into contact with his hardening cock, finding it rapidly growing erect at her touch. As she suspected… the Penguin couldn't have ever had much action. She ran her fingers lightly down the shaft, getting a feel for its length. She was a little surprised to find it respectably in the average range; she'd half expected it to be as pathetic and puny as the rest of him.

Oswald visibly jumped as she touched him there. "I-" He bit his bottom lip and clenched his eyes tighter. No woman had ever touched him before, let alone … there. Sure there had been nights where he'd done this himself but …. This was different. He was tense and nervous yes, but … her fingers felt good.

Fish smirked at Oswald's reaction as she wrapped her hand around his cock, her thumb toying lightly with the tip for a moment before she started to stroke slowly, teasingly, up and down the shaft.

Oswald gasped, his mouth falling open as he felt pleasure already building up inside him. If she didn't stop he wouldn't last very long.

Fish stroked up Oswald's cock a couple more times, amused by just how close he was so quickly. If she wasn't careful, though, he could come at any moment.

Oswald looked down at her hand, moving expertly over his shaft and knew he was about to cum. Could feel it building up inside of him about to break at any moment. He felt his breathing pick up slightly, felt his hips move forward slightly. Just a few more strokes and-

Just as she knew Oswald had to be right on the edge, Fish abruptly took her hand away from his cock and straightened, heading briskly for the door, pausing only to pick up her scissors and gesture toward the desk, where a neatly folded pair of pants, button-down shirt, and sweater were waiting. "There's a change of clothes there for you; yours are hopelessly blood-stained, I'm afraid. Tomorrow, be here early; I'll have Butch take you to get a new suit." She turned back to glance down at him and said: "You're not needed for the rest of the evening. Be sure to change and exit promptly."

Oswald sat there stunned for a moment as he looked at her walking away, barely able to register what she was saying. He glanced over at the clothes that were on the desk before adjusting his towel around his waist. He knew not to argue … but … What was all that about?

"Yes, ma'am." He said picking up the clothing she instructed him to take as she left the room. He looked down at his still swollen cock, suddenly feeling rather frustrated. He glanced towards the bathroom … how promptly was promptly?

He groaned quietly as he put the pants on, ignoring the fact that there was no underwear and his didn't seem to be in the pile of his old clothes. He picked up the dress shirt, noticing a small splatter of blood on the collar. He wondered briefly who had been killed in this shirt as he pulled it over his head and buttoned up the shirt the rest of the way, leaving the top button open. He pulled the sweater on over top and left the room. He walked through the club ignoring everything as he walked past. He got a few stares from the angered expression on his face, and he knew he had to calm himself but he found that he couldn't.

He exited out onto the street and made his way towards his mother's apartment … He just wanted to go to bed.


	2. No One Likes A Debtor

Chapter 2: Making Connections

Gertrude had been waiting up in the living room, looking at the clock frequently and fretting ever since the sun had gone down. Gotham was a dangerous place at night, and he was almost never out for any length of time after dark. She had the door open before Oswald could get to the door.

"Oswald, you were out so late," she said, patting the side of her son's face, reassuring herself that he was home and safe. "You look upset. Is everything alright? Did something happen?"

He forced a smile onto his face. "No. In fact, everything is great. I got a job today mother." He said closing the door behind him and locking the three locks. "I work at a nightclub … So I probably won't be coming home until late. It's full time, with over time, but I don't know what my shifts will be like yet." He said smiling and nodding.

"That is wonderful," she said, smiling proudly up at him and wrapping him in a close hug. "I knew you would find something. How could anyone not want such a good boy working for them?" She pulled away enough to look at him again, hands resting on his arms, eyes filled with concern. "Though I do not like the idea of all these late hours with you away from home… Perhaps you should try to find something else. You know how dangerous the streets are in Gotham after dark, and I don't like to think of my son having to make his way home in the dark at all hours."

"I'll be fine mother, it's not far from here. Just a bit of a walk." He said with a smile. "I'm going to go to bed though. I have to be there early tomorrow."

"Well, as long as you're careful…" she reached up and smoothed his hair, then asked. "Where did you get this new haircut?" That seemed strange; her Oswald wasn't even comfortable letting her cut his hair. What had suddenly changed? " And is this a new sweater?"

"My … My employer thought it would be best if I looked presentable while I was in her club. She gave me the clothes and … Practically had to tie me the chair to cut my hair." He said feeling uncomfortable even talking about it. "I mean it still looks choppy but …." He said waving his hand to dismiss it. "I'll let you cut it next time … I have to stay presentable now that I have a job." He didn't want to tell her just how many jobs he'd applied for or how desperate he'd gotten. And he most definitely didn't want to tell her he had to kill her oldest son to get it.

"Well, you do look quite handsome," Gertrude said. "But I don't think strangers should be cutting your hair. In the future, you should leave it to your mother." If he was able now to sit down and let her, she could finally do a better job. "And once you know your schedule a little better, I would like to know what your hours are so I won't worry quite so much." Though she knew she was bound to worry any time her son was out on his own. In many ways, she would always think of him as her little boy. "Do you need anything before you go to bed? Some tea, perhaps?"

"No thank you mom." He said with a smile as he hugged her. "I had a long day. I just want to get some sleep." He said kissing her gently.

"Alright," said Gertrude. "You do look like you could use some rest. You have been completely wearing yourself out with all of this job-hunting." She patted his cheek. "Good night, Oswald."

Oswald put on the blue sweater from the night before over top of a different white dress shirt. He smoothed over his hair, his bangs nearly brushed, the back sticking up oddly.

He took a deep breath as he took in his appearance in the dirty antique mirror before he left his room and headed towards the front door.

Just before he reached the door, there was a loud banging from the other side, shaking the old door on its hinges, and a voice shouted: "You're past due on your rent, Kapelput! And don't go pretending no one's home!"

At the loud noise, Gertrude came rushing into the room, looking alarmed. "Let me talk to them, Oswald," she said. "I will tell them you have a job now; you shouldn't have to deal with them."

"Mom, no." He said stopping her before she got to the door. "You remember what happened last time." He said.

"Open the damn door!" Came the voice from the other side of the door followed by further banging.

"I'm coming." Oswald said, stepping away from his mother and going to the door. He opened it slightly before it was pushed all the way open and Oswald was knocked backwards onto the floor.

The landlord, a greasy, grubby balding man named Stan shoved his way into the room, followed by two taller, more muscular thugs who looked like they might have seen prison at one point. "You got my money, Kapelput?" he demanded.

Gertrude ignored him at first, rushing to Oswald's side and fussing over him as she helped him up, before she looked up and answered. "There is no need to go shoving people about like that! We don't have your money now, but my son has just been hired at a new job yesterday. When he gets paid, then we can pay you."

"That's not good enough," said Stan. "I've got expenses to meet too, you know." One of his goons stepped forward and grabbed Oswald by the front of his shirt, despite Gertrude's protests. "How do I know you're not holding out on me, hmm? Maybe you asked that new boss of yours for an advance on your paycheck."

"I-I-I can't do that … I just started there yesterday … I-I don't have the- OOF!" Oswald grunted as the large man punched him in the stomach so hard he doubled over in pain.

"We get the money now … Or your ugly face gets uglier." The man said as Oswald struggled to stand up.

"Gentlemen … I assure you …. You'll have your money in two weeks time. With interest, I promise." Oswald said.

"You owe us four months rent. That's $3100 …. We'll make it an even $4000 for interest. Think you can come up with that in two weeks?" The man asked.

Oswald looked up at him in surprise. "$4000?!" Oswald asked. His first pay cheque he'd be lucky if he got $700 …. He was hoping paying off at least one months rent would be enough for now but $4000? "I-I-I can't get that much in two weeks! I can pay you last months rent, and pay off every two weeks until we're caught up! I swear you'll get your-" Oswald was cut off as a fist connected with his face, blood filling his mouth as he was knocked back again.

"Stop it!" Gertrude cried. "You leave my son alone!" She grabbed at the man's arm, trying to stop him from throwing the next punch, but he shoved her aside roughly and she hit the floor.

"I don't get it, kid," said Stan. "First you tell me you can pay me back with interest in two weeks, and now you're telling me you can't. Which is it?"

"I-I-I ... I can pay you back this month." he said looking at his mother who was sprawled on the floor. "... I promise! And I'll work my way up for the rest. I have a-"

"Yes you already said you had a job." The man said looking around the small cluttered apartment. He motioned towards the two others who started ransacking the apartment looking for anything of value.

Gertrude looked up, shaking, as the two men rummaged through cupboards and drawers, throwing aside anything that wasn't of much monetary worth. She winced as one of them pocketed a necklace that had belonged to her mother before her, but she didn't say anything. At least they weren't hurting her son anymore. The sooner these awful men finished going through the apartment, the sooner they would leave her and Oswald alone.

Oswald sneered at the men going through their stuff as if going through a thrift store sale ... He stood up and walked towards the man who had pocketed the necklace.

"Put that back! I said I'd pay you!" He said grabbing the man's arm.

"Stop!" Gertrude protested as the man pulled his arm away and slammed his fist hard into Oswald's face, knocking him down. She rushed to him as he fell.

Oswald felt the blow connect with his eye, could feel blood running down his face, his vision turning red in one eye as he fell and hit the ground, his head hitting the hard wood so hard he barely registered his mother coming towards him before he lost consciousness.

Oswald groaned as he opened his eyes slowly, his head pounding, his vision spinning. What the hell happened?

He looked around and groaned again, bringing his hand to his head. Had he been knocked out?

Oswald gasped and sat up quickly, making his head swim even more.

"What time is it? How long was I out for?!" He asked looking around and noticing various things were missing, including their kitchen clock.

"Oswald, please, you should rest," said Gertrude, placing a steadying hand on his shoulder. Her eyes were red from crying. Why had her poor son decided to be so brave? "I am sure your boss will understand if you just explain-"

"No ... I-I-I have to go ... That time is it?" He asked looking around for the living room clock. He gently moved his mothers hand from his shoulder and sat up. 2:45?!

He was almost two hours late for work on his first shift. Miss. Mooney most certainly would not forgive that.

"I have to go mother." He said standing up before falling back into the couch again. He held his hand to his head to try to get some kind of grasp on himself, to stop his dizziness. To stop the feeling of throwing up that was building inside his stomach.

He had to go to work ... He took a deep breath to calm himself and slowly stood.

"You really shouldn't," Gertrude said, worry in her voice as she watched him stand. "You're in no condition to go to work like this."

He waved her off as he walked towards the door. "I have to mom. I'll ... I'll see you tonight ... If I still have a job." He muttered the last part under his breath as he left.


	3. Whatever Can Happen Will Happen

Chapter 3

It should have taken him only forty five minutes to walk there but it took him just over an hour ... It was already after three that he finally arrived and tugged the door open, walking into the small club.

By the time that Oswald came staggering in, Fish was beyond angry. The extreme lateness itself was a fireable offense, but after the time and effort that she had already gone out of her way to invest in the ungrateful little bastard, there had to be other consequences for wasting her time. She did not just give out employment opportunities out of the goodness of her heart, and could not afford for people to continue under that impression.

"You know, you're not nearly qualified enough to get away with this kind of behavior," she said in a dangerously calm voice, as she slowly strode forward from the other end of the club. "I hired you because I thought you had potential. You were punctual, you were respectful… And now I find that you are neither. If you can't be bothered to show up on time, then you have some nerve showing your scrawny ass here at all." As she came close enough to get a better look at him, she caught sight of the nasty bruises on his face, his bleeding lip, more blood in his hair… her eyes quickly took inventory, noticing the pained way he stood, how out of breath he was. Fish's expression grew even more livid. "What happened?" she said furiously.

Oswald knew she would be mad but he wasn't expecting this. "I-I-I'm so sorry Miss. Mooney I ..." He paused as if he wasn't sure what to tell her. "I was on my way here ... I promise I would have been on time but ... There were these m-muggers. They knocked me out. I don't even know what time it is ..." He lied. "Please forgive me Miss. Mooney. I-I-It won't happen again. I swear."

Fish waved a hand. "Obviously you don't intend for this to happen again," she said irritably. Though if he were lying about how it had happened, she suspected that it might. She couldn't tolerate that. "But they must have been unusually desperate muggers to bother with you." She stared down at him. "Now tell me, who really did this to you?"

Oswald opened his mouth to say it was muggers again but he knew she knew he was lying. "My mother's landlord ... They came into our apartment as I was leaving, attacked me and my mother and ransacked our apartment." He said his stutter oddly gone when he spoke so angrily about the man who had done this.

"I see," Fish said. "Well, we can't have that, can we?" No two-bit landlord was going to damage what belonged to her and get away with it. Moreover, Fish would allow no one to disrupt her business. If it was Oswald's landlord, she needed to step in now before it happened again. "I'm going to need a name," she said, putting a steadying hand on Oswald's shoulder. He looked like he might fall over at any minute. "And where to find him."

"I-I ... Stan Tompkins ... He's on the first floor of Flounder's Apartments, number 12." He said nervously. "But please ... Don't do anything ... He's a brute ... He's ..." He winced as he felt himself waver slightly, his head swimming. A second later Butch jumped forward and caught him before he fell.

"Oh, I'm not the one you should be worried for," Fish said with a wry smile. Teaching brutes a lesson was nothing new to her. Oswald, however, looked like he was going to be useless for the rest of the day. "Butch, put him somewhere out of the way, where he won't get himself injured any further… Then we'll go have a little chat with Stan Tompkins."

"Miss. Mooney, it … That's not necessary. A waste of your time really. I-I-I can work … I-I promise ... " He said forcing himself to stand up shakily.

"Hush," Fish held up a hand. "This isn't for your sake. I've told you before, I'm not running a charity. But I can't have some small-time thug on a power trip putting my employees out of commission, interfering with my business, damaging things that belong to me… This is absolutely necessary. Now, you're going to go rest so you can be useful to me tomorrow."

"I-I-I … I'm sorry Miss. Mooney …" He said looking away from her. He hated this … His first shift and he was useless.

Fish ignored Oswald's apology, and looked over to the bar, where her newest bartender, a young man named Murphy who, so far, she'd found out next to nothing about, had been very quietly setting up for that evening. Throughout the conversation, he'd made a point of looking like he was minding his own business, though he kept glancing surreptitiously over at Oswald.

"You," she said. "Take care of those cuts, and see that he doesn't bleed all over the establishment."

"Yes, Miss. Mooney," said Murphy, straightening, and looking directly at Oswald for the first time, before adding, "I'm pretty sure he has a concussion… He'll need to be monitored."

"Monitor him, then," said Fish impatiently. "The other bartenders managed without you before last week; if necessary, they'll get by again without you tonight."

Murphy looked like he wanted to argue, but decided against it. "Yes, Miss. Mooney," he said, coming out from behind the bar. There went any chance at earning tips tonight… Still, this Oswald guy was in pretty bad shape, and Murphy doubted anyone else would bother to do as good a job at looking after him.

Oswald looked up at the man who approached. He flinched slightly … The man looked an awful lot like …. Oswald shook his head slightly. No, it couldn't be ….

"Hey, easy there," said Murphy. "No one here's going to hurt you." Though frankly, he couldn't blame the poor guy for being a little timid after the day he'd had. Even in his current state, though, Murphy thought Oswald had very striking eyes … though, on closer inspection, one looked a little more dilated than the other. Yep, definitely concussed. "Do you need a hand walking?" he asked, offering his arm.

Oswald shook his head but swooned with the action and fell forward, Butch grabbing onto him again. "Just help this mess upstairs before he hurts himself." Butch said handing Oswald over to him.

"Come on Butch." Mooney said. "We haven't got all day, the club opens in just over an hour … We'll … make quick work of this." She said heading towards the door, Butch grabbing her coat for her.

"Got it," said Murphy, half-carrying a reluctant Oswald toward the stairs. It wasn't exactly difficult; the guy weighed next to nothing.

Once they got upstairs Oswald pulled away from Murphy and sat down on the bed. "I know you don't want to stay here … You can go back to work if you want." He said staring down at the ground.

Murphy stared at Oswald for a moment, and then shook his head. "Don't worry about that, okay? I'm staying." He went to the dresser where he knew Mooney kept one of the First Aid kits.

He'd listed First Aid and CPR training in his skill set when he'd interviewed last week, and had consequently been informed of the locations of all first aid kits on the premises… He'd been right in assuming that injuries were not uncommon here. He'd thought it best, though, not to mention just how qualified in that area he was. That would have raised questions about what he was doing applying at a place like this in the first place.

"So I'll definitely need to clean those cuts first," he said, applying rubbing alcohol to a gauze pad. "Which may sting a little," he said apologetically, before starting to gently clean one of the cuts on Oswald's face.

Oswald didn't even react as Murphy started cleaning the cuts. Most people would hiss in pain, or try to pull away but Oswald wasn't a stranger to pain. If he reacted to anything, it was Murphy's behaviour.

"Why?" Oswald asked as Murphy cleaned his cuts.

"Because they might get infected otherwise," said Murphy, though he knew that probably wasn't what Oswald meant.

"Don't play stupid." Oswald said turning his face from where Murphy was dabbing at his cuts, though not from the pain. It did sting but it didn't bother him any. "Miss. Mooney didn't tell you to be nice to me, just to make sure I didn't bleed on her floor …"

"Because I'm not in the habit of being an asshole to people," Murphy said, then frowned and added: "Well, not unless they've done something to deserve it, anyway."

"You're new to Gotham," Oswald said. It wasn't a question so much stated as a fact. "That will change …. Believe me."

"Well, aren't you just a ray of sunshine," said Murphy sarcastically, moving so that Oswald's face was no longer turned away from him, and continuing to clean his cuts. "You're not entirely wrong, though. I've been here about two weeks."

"I know … I can tell." Oswald said not moving his face away from him anymore. The faster he did it the faster he could stop touching his face. "It has nothing to do with positivity or negativity … If you want to survive in this town, kindness is not the way to do it. If you want something you have to take it … If you don't take it, someone else will take it first … Someone stronger, more powerful." He said bitterly. "It's just the way things are here."

"Shockingly," said Murphy. "That doesn't just apply to Gotham… you're just a little more obvious about it here." He was quiet for a long moment, before saying, "Anyway, even if I accept that philosophy as gospel truth, I don't see what it has to do with this. I can't just be a dick to everyone all the time; that would be exhausting."

"Most people here succeed in it …. I don't see how you'd be an exception." Oswald said. "It'll be a matter of time … Believe me. Someone will get in your way, or push your buttons … Gotham changes even the best of people …. And no offence, you don't exactly look like a good man."

Murphy actually laughed at that. "Again," he said. "You're not entirely wrong." He finished cleaning the cuts on Oswald's face, then went around to clean the one on the back of his head. "On the bright side, none of these will be needing stitches."

Oswald rolled his eyes at Murphy's remark … Like that really mattered. Stitches, scars, it was something he'd grown used to. He was just grateful that his head injury was bleeding externally and not internally.

Once Murphy had finished cleaning any visible cuts, he said briskly: "So, I think an ice pack for your head would be a good idea, to reduce the swelling… Any other injuries I should know about?"

"No." Oswald said turning to lay down on the bed, and wincing at the movement. He hoped Murphy wasn't looking at him, he would know something else was wrong. Oswald looked up at him and refrained from groaning when he saw the man was still looking at him.

"Ribs?" Murphy guessed, having watched closely as Oswald moved; it was already clear that he was the type of patient to deny pain whenever possible and brush off offers of assistance. Murphy really needed to stop thinking in words like 'patient'; Oswald was just a stubborn, difficult man.

"No ..." Oswald denied, though he had no doubt his ribs were, at the best, bruised.

Murphy rolled his eyes. "Right," he said skeptically. "Let me take a look."

"Go away." Oswald said his head swimming as he laid back on the pillow.

"Yeah, that's not going to happen," said Murphy, sitting down on the side of the bed. "It won't take long. Just hold still, and I'll figure out the damage."

"Just go ... Away." Oswald said moving away from him on the bed.

"Will you just let me see if your ribs are cracked or not?" asked Murphy, annoyed. If he'd had a few people helping him, it would be one thing, but on his own, if Oswald was going to put up a struggle over this, he might end up injuring himself worse before Murphy could do anything about it. He tugged at the bottom of Oswald's shirt, testing to see whether he would let him help.

Oswald saw the man's hands go for his shirt, felt it tug upwards and panic set in. Oswald tried to pull away quickly, Murphy grabbing onto him and pulling him back.

"Let me go!" Oswald practically yelled.

Oswald's eyes widened in fear and before he thought to do anything else he lashed out, punching Murphy hard in the face. Oswald backed up again, trying to get away from Murphy and with a loud thud hit the ground beside the bed.

"Ow, goddamn…" For a guy his size, Oswald could throw a hell of a punch when he wanted to. Murphy looked down at Oswald where he'd fallen onto the floor… which was exactly what he'd been trying to keep from happening by grabbing him, but apparently Oswald had registered that as a threat. So he kept his distance now, not making any move toward him. "Are you alright?" he asked.

Oswald sat up, leaning against the bed and tried to block out Murphy's presence in general.

"Go away ... Please just go away." He said sounding more frightened than angry.

At the look of fear in Oswald's eyes, Murphy immediately backed away, getting off of the bed on the opposite side from Oswald. Clearly there was something else going on that he hadn't realized. "I'm sorry," he said. "I just was trying to help, and then I didn't want you to fall off, and… Look, I'll just go get you a couple of ice packs, and then I won't bother you, okay?" He headed for the door, upset.

It wasn't like there were bloody broken ribs sticking out visibly all over the place. At most, he probably had a fracture somewhere. In which case, the best thing to do was wrap up the area to make sure it didn't get jarred out of place, but he didn't think Oswald would let him do that at this point. Just as likely, though, they were just bruised, in which case a few ice packs would help. Either way, it didn't seem too dire.

Oswald heard the door close and looked up over the bed to see that Murphy had indeed left. He groaned at himself ... How stupid ... How cowardly ... The man hadn't even done anything and he flailed and bolted like a cornered cat ... He sat down on the bed and laid back against the pillow again, his hand against his ribs, listening to music starting up downstairs. It seems the club was starting to open, had it already been an hour?

Murphy returned shortly with three ice packs, a glass of water, and a bottle of aspirin. He set everything down on the bedside table, making a point of leaving a physical distance between himself and Oswald. "I'll just leave it to you what to do with these," he said. Then he retreated to a chair on the opposite side of the room.

Oswald stared at Murphy as he sat down. He felt bad for punching him when the man hadn't really done anything but it wasn't in his nature to apologize ... Not to someone who wasn't leagues above him in both strength and power anyway, and even then it was his begging for forgiveness not apologizing.

The man didn't seem to be bleeding from anywhere at least, though his knuckles still hurt from the punch so it had to have hurt.

Murphy was uncertain how to respond to the intensity of Oswald's stare. At least he didn't seem frightened anymore; whatever momentary panic had overtaken him had passed. He tried to ignore Oswald's gaze, but couldn't help wondering what was going on in his head right now. "What?" he asked finally. "Did I grow an extra head?"

Oswald didn't say anything, just laid back on the pillow ignoring the things Murphy had brought him and stared up at the ceiling.

"Why are you still here?"

"You're still concussed, remember?" said Murphy. "Miss. Mooney said to monitor you. And I'm not about to risk pissing off Miss. Mooney, no matter how good a punch you throw."

Oswald scoffed. "Yeah ... That came with practice." He said rolling his eyes. "You can go back to work you don't need to sit here watching me ... Go earn your tips."

"Believe me, I'd love to," Murphy sighed. Oswald had no idea how much. "But you seem to have missed the part about pissing off Miss. Mooney. If me being here bothers you, then just ignore me, and unless you need something, I'll do the same."

"Fine." Oswald said turning onto his side.


	4. A change of heart?

Chapter 4

It was hours later that Oswald finally arrived home, able to stand without feeling like he was going to be sick. He still felt dizzy but it was bearable.

He punched the pass code into the security pad outside and pushed the door. It didn't open. He sighed as he tried it seven more times, the door sticking each time.

Oswald groaned and kicked the wall before attempting two more times. A few minutes later the old man from down the hall walked by, wandering the halls again. He tapped on the glass and the old man came and opened the door for him.

"Door stickin again huh?" The old man asked as Oswald came in.

"Yes. Thank you for letting me in, Mr. Williams." Oswald said kindly.

"Of course dear boy." The man said patting Oswald on the head as he had done since Oswald was a child. It didn't matter that Oswald was a few inches taller than the hunched man now, he still did it anyway. "You're getting home late. It's nigh two in the morning." He said glancing at his old pocket watch.

"Yes, I'm just getting off work. I'm still adjusting to the hours, I should head up and get some sleep. I have to be there again at noon tomorrow." He said waving good bye to Mr. Williams.

"You get a good rest my boy ..."

"You too. And don't forget to take your meds. You promised me, remember?" He said smiling as the old man groaned and waved him off. He shook his head as he walked down the hall towards the stairway and paused when he saw Stan Tomkins coming down the hall.

"Mr. Tompkins I-"

"Ah, Mr. Cobblepot," said Stan, a slight tremor in his voice. "Just the man I wanted to see." As he approached, it became apparent that he was paler and sweatier than usual. "Look, I uh… just wanted to apologize for this morning's uh… misunderstanding."

Oswald paused and stared at Stan. Since when was he Mr. Cobblepot?

"Um ..." Oswald looked at him confused.

"You know it wasn't personal, right? I'm just trying to run a business here, and some of these bums living here would never pay up if I didn't lean on them a little," he said with a nervous laugh. "But Miss. Mooney came by and cleared everything up, so we can put all that behind us, hmm? Of course, if you've got this month covered, you don't have to worry about the last four. Just leave the past in the past, right?"

Oswald stared at him, his eyebrow raised. Miss. Mooney must have done something ... If Oswald wasn't mistaken Stan was now afraid of him. He wondered just how afraid ...

"Actually ... I don't have this month's rent either." He said testing the waters.

"Oh," Stan stammered. "Well, uh… of course you don't have it yet," he said with what was meant to be an understanding smile. "You just started out at your new job, probably have other expenses to catch up on, got your old lady to take care of, I know how it is. So let's just… see how this month goes, alright? Oh, and I almost forgot…" he reached into his shirt pocket and produced Gertrude's necklace, holding it out to Oswald. "My boys got a little carried away… reliable muscle's hard to find in this city; doesn't always come with brains attached, you know? Anyway, we're both reasonable men. There's no hard feelings, right?"

Oswald regarded him as he took the necklace back.

"Everything else was given back as well?" Oswald asked knowing that other things were taken other than the necklace.

Stan's face went almost white. "Y-yes, of course," he stammered. "I had everything else I could find brought back this evening while you were away… But if you notice anything else missing, let me know, and I'll question the boys about it and make sure it gets brought back."

Oswald smiled. "Great." He said walking past Stan and towards the stairs. He knew Stan was hating this but whatever Mooney had done, it was effective. Just as he reached the stairs he stopped and turned towards his landlord.

"Oh and Stan." He said knowing the man hated to be called by his first name by his tenants. "The security lock is still broken ... I believe I brought that to your attention ... What? Twelve ... Thirteen times in the past three months?"

"I'll get it taken care of by the end of this week," said Stan quickly. "Thank you for uh… reminding me again."

Oswald moved up the stairs, grinning as he played with the necklace in his pocket.

Things were looking up ... And he had Miss. Mooney to thank for that. He reached the door and knocked. He hated how his mom never trusted him enough to to give him a key.

"Mom?" He asked knocking again hearing nothing from inside. A few moment later he sighed in annoyance and knocked again. "Mother let me in!"

A few moments later, there were footsteps inside, and the door opened. "I'm so sorry, my poor Oswald," said Gertrude, letting him in. "I must have dozed off… How long were you waiting out there?"

"Not long." He said pulling out the necklace from his pocket. "I believe this belonged to Grandma Esther."

Gertrude gasped. This morning, she had been so sure she would never see her mother's necklace again. "Oh Oswald, how did you get this back?" she asked, her eyes tearing up. "And how did you get those horrible men to bring back the rest of our things? You didn't do anything dangerous, did you?"

"Of course not." Oswald said closing the door behind him. "They probably just ... Had a change of heart is all. We won't have to worry about them anymore."

Gertrude was not so sure that those brutes would just 'have a change of heart' all on their own like that. Perhaps her Oswald wouldn't lie to her, but he must have done something… Still, looking at him now, he did not seem any more badly injured than he had been this morning. So whatever it was, perhaps it really wasn't so dangerous. Her son was so very clever, after all.

"What matters most is that you are safe," said Gertrude, patting the side of his face gently, knowing that he was still hurt. "The rest are only things." She could stand to lose anything else, but not her precious son. That would be unbearable. "You are such a good boy…" Then she shook her head. "You must be exhausted after the day you have had… I should let you get to bed."

Oswald kissed his mother gently. "I really should get some sleep. I have work again tomorrow. I have to get some clothes since I was unable to today." He said heading towards his room.


	5. Harassment in the Workplace

Chapter 5

Oswald sat at the table near by as Mooney watched auditions up on stage. Four hours now he'd done nothing but sit here and occasionally fill her glass. He would never complain, but he was growing bored.

Fish waved a hand. "No," she said, before the band currently auditioning could even make it to the chorus. "That won't do at all. Next." With some encouragement from Butch, the group left, clearing the stage for the next audition. Fish tapped the side of her once again empty glass, though the bottle that Oswald had been pouring out of was now also empty. Watching from the bar, Murphy noticed and brought out another one.

Oswald said nothing to Murphy as he took the bottle from him. He opened it and filled her glass, leaving the bottle on the table where the old one had been. He took the empty one and handed it to Murphy before returning to his seat once more.

Murphy took the empty bottle and, as Oswald turned to head back to his seat, said quietly: "Looking sharp today. That look works for you." And it was true; Oswald cleaned up really well. The new suit made a drastic difference. The design itself was simple and classic, but it fit him well. Aside from the still-healing cuts and bruises, Murphy thought Oswald looked pretty damn handsome… which was a train of thought that he probably shouldn't pursue any further.

"Thanks." Oswald muttered as he sat down, drumming his fingers on the table.

"Are you bored Oswald?" Mooney asked, looking over her shoulder. Her tone made it clear that she really didn't care.

"N-No ma'am … Of course not." He said, stilling his fingers on the table.

"Are you sure?" said Fish, her tone mildly annoyed. "Because I could always come up with something for you to do."

"I'll do anything you request Miss. Mooney." Oswald said obediently, making a few of the waiters snicker.

Murphy felt a touch of irritation at the waiters for their reaction. Sure, Oswald was the one being singled out right now, but it wasn't as if any of them would have defied Fish Mooney either.

"Oh good," said Fish lightly. "Because I could really use a foot massage right now." She watched his expression to see if he was uncomfortable yet. She needed to make sure that, just because she'd put down some petty thug on his behalf yesterday, he didn't start to forget his place.

Oswald stood as the waiters started laughing a bit more. He moved beside her table as she slipped her shoe off. He sat cross legged on the floor, ignoring the pain in his ribs as he started to massage her foot, something he was at least good at from the amount of times he'd done it for his mother.

"Hmm, You're actually pretty good at this, my little penguin," Fish smirked down at him. "A little more to the left, though."

Murphy looked away in second-hand embarrassment for Oswald, going about his business checking the availability of their best-selling alcohols, and preparing other ingredients for the club's more popular drinks, making a point of not staring… but constantly glancing back over at the scene despite his best efforts.

Oswald looked up at her and smiled softly as he moved his thumbs over as she instructed, this honestly wasn't bothering him at all, so long as it was pleasing her.

Fish looked down at him curiously, trying to discern what was behind his expression. He didn't seem at all humiliated by this, despite performing such a submissive action in the middle of the club, on the floor, in front of most of the other employees. Not only that, but she'd also called him by his apparently hated nickname in public, and it still didn't seem to bother him in the slightest… Why? He wasn't that confident a person by any stretch of the imagination, nor was he stupid enough to be unaware of what the others thought, so why was he unfazed by this? Could he really be that grateful to her for intimidating his landlord yesterday? Surely not, when he knew it was a simple matter of power and image for her. No one was that pathetic.

"What are you thinking, little penguin, I wonder?" she asked quietly.

Oswald looked up at her again and shrugged. "I'm just happy I can be of assistance." He said sincerely. He could hear the other's still snickering at him and he ignored it easily.

Murphy looked up from the bar, surprised by both Oswald's answer and the sincerity in his tone. He… could kind of respect that, actually. Though now he couldn't help wondering if maybe Oswald had a thing for Miss. Mooney… That thought bothered him for some reason.

Fish smiled slightly. She supposed the strange little man could be faking his response in an attempt to curry favor… she'd dealt with her share of kiss-asses before. For all their snickering, she could have gotten any one of the waiters to do the exact same thing if she'd felt like it. But with all his stammering and nervousness before, she just didn't credit him as that good an actor. Apparently, he really was that pathetic. It was a little disgusting, really… though she somewhat enjoyed the idea of having such a loyal little pet. For awhile, she let him continue uninterrupted. He really was rather good at this, and the custom heels she'd been walking around in all day were demanding, to say the least.

Nonetheless, this really wouldn't work as a power-play to remind him of his place if he genuinely didn't mind. But she could think of something that had made him very uncomfortable before… and would probably make him even more uncomfortable here. While Oswald diligently rubbed one foot, she slipped the other one between his legs… he'd made it far too easy sitting cross-legged on the floor like that, and ran it lightly along his inner thigh, watching his face for a reaction.

Oswald took a slight intake of breath as he felt her foot snake up his thigh. He knew what she was doing, and knew it was for her own benefit to see how he would react. He kept his expression neutral as possible, the only change in his face was the sudden clench of his teeth though that was hardly visible with how he was now focusing on her foot.

Fish smirked. Oh, he was clearly trying very hard not to react, but she'd heard that little intake of breath, and she thought she saw his teeth clench, but she wasn't quite sure, the way that his face was turned down, pointedly focusing on rubbing her foot. She continued to snake her other foot up his thigh, nearing his groin.

Oswald continued focusing on his work as a few of the waiters caught notice of what was going on. A light blush came to his cheeks as a few of them snickered once again, one of them even going so far as to lean against the bar to watch.

Murphy stopped in the middle of cutting up limes, stunned into staring. What the hell was she… She couldn't just do that! Well, she could, she was Fish Mooney, she could do pretty much whatever she wanted, but… but… Oswald was clearly uncomfortable with it. Of course he was. Who wouldn't be? He didn't even like people touching him in the first place; hell, he'd panicked and clocked Murphy in the face when he'd just tried to examine his ribs, for Christ's sake! It was completely wrong for her to just… harass him like this in front of everybody. And everybody was just snickering like that. What a bunch of utter pricks. He was completely furious when one of the waiters decided to just lean on the bar-the bar that Murphy had just finished wiping down- to watch like it was some kind of show, completely giving up all pretense of working.

Murphy cleared his throat. "Are you on break?" he asked the waiter in a low, dangerous voice.

The waiter turned to make some retort, but something about the look on Murphy's face made him reconsider it. "Um, no," he said.

"Then quit loitering around my bar and go do your job," Murphy said quietly. The waiter cleared off. Murphy then realized that he was staring just like everybody else, and went back to chopping limes, though far more angrily than before.

"What's the matter, penguin?" Fish asked softly, her foot now running teasingly against his cock through the fabric of his pants. "Is something distracting you?"

Oswald remembered the last time she'd done this, just two days previous … Made him think as if she wanted to do this but just at the last moment backed away as if it were just a game. His hands faltered and shook just slightly.

"Please stop." He whispered, barely audible over the noise. "I … I haven't done anything wrong." He said, though despite his quiet plead to stop he could feel his cock swelling in his pants as her foot gently ran along it through the thick fabric. He hated how easily she did that to him … Hated how easily his body betrayed him. It felt good he had to admit but … She was just playing with him. Nothing more.

Fish continued to brush her foot against him, as she looked down at him with combined disgust and satisfaction. He really was a pathetic little creature. It hadn't taken much at all to make him go from trying to act like a man with some semblance of dignity to outright pleading with her to stop humiliating him. Yet there was a certain innocence to his reasoning as well that she couldn't help but pity. "Haven't done anything wrong?" Fish repeated, not quite as quietly as Oswald had said it. "My simple, innocent little penguin, whoever said you did? I thought you were just glad to be of service."

"I-I …" He stopped talking as his hands moved back to her foot, focusing on what he was doing with his hands rather than what she was doing with her other foot. "I'm sorry I …" He didn't know what she wanted. He didn't know how to react, or what to say. He just wished she would stop playing with him.

Murphy continued chopping limes on the cutting board, trying not to listen, not able to hear all that was said anyway, though he caught enough of the words and of Oswald's tormented expression that he was completely livid about the whole thing. His hand gripped the knife as if he were strangling it, and chopped as forcefully as if he had a personal vendetta against citrus fruits. Why the hell was he this angry about it, though? Yeah, he felt bad for Oswald and what she was putting him through, and sure he felt a little more protective toward the man than he could really explain, but… why the hell did he feel, just ever so slightly, jealous? He reminded himself that Oswald didn't even like him. For all he knew, the man could be 100% straight anyway. There was absolutely no reason for this nonsense. Was he really lonely enough to be attracted to a guy who'd punched him in the face the first time they were alone together? He knew he'd lost control of his life pretty badly, but this was just ridiculous.

Still. All that aside, what Fish was doing was cruel and Murphy hated it.

Fish continued toying with him mercilessly. She leaned forward slightly and whispered so that only Oswald could hear: "You didn't seem to mind the little taste you got the other night. But now you're all protests."

Oswald still focused on his hands, possibly putting a bit more pressure than was necessary. "Forgive me, Miss. Mooney. But I am not a slow learner." He said just as quietly so that only she could hear.

Fish didn't respond to the additional pressure. She raised an eyebrow, however, at his comment. "No, evidently not," she said, mildly amused. She leaned back in her chair again, still not relenting in teasing him. "Still," she said, more clearly, so that her voice carried. "I left you alone with Murphy for one night, and suddenly you're all hesitant… What happened last night, I wonder?"

Murphy suddenly looked up, stopping what he was doing. "What… Now, Miss. Mooney," he said, trying to play it off as if this didn't bother him. "If you really wanted to know that, you should have stayed around to watch."

Oswald's eyes widened, his face turning even redder right down to his neck and up to his large ears. He looked at Murphy, anger clear on his face as the waiters all started laughing.

Murphy felt terrible at the look of anger and embarrassment on Oswald's face. He hadn't meant to add to Oswald's humiliation, just to show him how to act like it didn't matter. If anything, he'd intended to draw their attention away from Oswald a little and onto himself… but Oswald clearly didn't see it that way.

He tried to pretend he didn't notice that either, and rolled his eyes at the waiters. "Oh, get your minds out of the gutter," he said. "If you must know, we had a boxing match. Oswald won. He actually has a really mean right hook."

"Really now?" Mooney asked looking down at Oswald, her foot moving away from the bulge in his pants. "Murphy, come here." She said looking down at Oswald with a smirk on her face.

Murphy paled slightly. "Yes ma'am," he said, setting down the knife on the cutting board and reluctantly coming out from behind the bar. He'd said something he shouldn't have, that much was clear, but he hadn't been dealing with Miss. Mooney long enough to be sure how. Was he in trouble for supposedly getting into a boxing match with a guy he was supposed to be taking care of, or had he somehow gotten Oswald in trouble instead? Since he didn't know, he wasn't sure how to fix it.

"Stand there next to Oswald." She instructed, lazily gesturing to the man who had moved onto his knees in front of her.

"You… do know I was joking, right?" said Murphy in a low voice, but he did as he was told nonetheless, standing next to Oswald.

"Joking or not, I doubt you got that bruise from nowhere …" She said observing his face. "Oswald … Tell me the truth … Did you punch Murphy here?"

"I-I-I …" Oswald stuttered looking up at Mooney. "I … Yes … I did Ma'am but-"

"But, nothing …." Mooney interrupted him. "You hit one of my employees … Now you must suffer the consequences." Oswald looked up at her with wide fearful eyes, wondering just what she would do. Mooney leaned back in her chair and smiled down at him. "I like you on your knees, my little penguin." She said with a smirk. "I want you to beg Murphy for forgiveness."

Oswald looked at her confused. Beg for forgiveness? From him? Oswald looked up at Murphy who towered over him even when he was standing, a look of disgust on his face.

"Miss. Mooney," said Murphy, not wanting to look at Oswald right now. "That's really not necessary; I'm pretty sure it was an accident. He was concussed at the time, he didn't know what he was doing."

"That may be so …. But excuses don't matter. A lesson must be learned here." She said pressing her finger against the table as if to accentuate her point. "Now …. Be a good little penguin, and beg for forgiveness."

Oswald turned towards Murphy, a sneer clear on his face, nearly everyone in the club watching them at this point.

"I apologize for punching you Mr. Fletcher." Oswald said, clearly not happy about the situation. "I promise it will never happen again."

"Oh now Pengy … I don't think you really mean that." Mooney said leaning forward, and examining Oswald. "I think you can do better than that …"

Oswald looked at her, not sure of what else she wanted him to do.

"Do I have to spell it out for you boy?" Mooney asked. "Kiss his shoes and beg for his forgiveness." She said making Oswald go even redder in embarrassment. Oswald wasn't even sure what he did to get into this predicament. He doubted he could even quit this job, she'd probably have Murphy or someone take him out back and kill him if he did.

Murphy looked over at Miss. Mooney, wanting to protest, but kept his mouth shut. This wasn't about him anyway, it was about Fish Mooney's authority. He doubted there was anything he could say to help Oswald at this point, and opening his stupid mouth was what had escalated this in the first place. At least Murphy had tried to keep his shoes clean for work… though that wouldn't help Oswald's pride at all.

He gave Oswald an apologetic look, trying to silently communicate that he hadn't meant for this to happen.

Oswald looked around at everybody watching. Didn't everyone have work to be done? Oswald didn't bother looking up at Murphy as he leaned forward on his hands and knees, feeling the heat in his face as he kissed Murphy's shoe.

"Well?" Mooney asked.

"Please forgive me, Mr. Fletcher." Oswald said kissing his shoe again. "Please accept my most heartfelt, sincere, apology."

Murphy glanced over at Miss. Mooney, hoping that was good enough for her, that this farce was done with. "It's… it's okay," he said. He doubted that there was any actual 'sincerity' in Oswald's apology, nor should there be. Murphy just felt guilty and embarrassed on Oswald's behalf. And he doubted that Oswald would ever accept any apology from him for causing this incident in the first place.

"Good." Mooney said. "Now … After that disgusting display I don't want to see either one of you … Oswald, since Murphy was so kind enough to take care of you when you were injured … Why don't you take Murphy upstairs and … take "care" of him …" She said clearly using care as an innuendo.

Oswald's eyes widened. "After all." Mooney continued. "You still owe him for that punch. Might as well give him a bit of fun, hmm? I'll get a review from Murphy in the morning." She said waving on the next audition.

Murphy panicked internally. If Oswald didn't already hate him now… "Um, Miss. Mooney," Murphy said quietly. "That's… very generous, but… I was joking about that too. I'm not actually gay." Technically, he was bisexual… and maybe happened to lean very heavily toward men, but that was none of Miss. Mooney's damn business.

"Uh-huh …. I've seen you eyeing up Oswald all night, watching him sit at his table, staring at his bottom while he pours my drinks, you think I don't notice …. I see everything." She said. "Now go … That's an order. Before I fire both of you lazy good for nothing miscreants."

Oswald slowly stood, shaking on his feet slightly as he nodded to Miss. Mooney. Would Murphy actually do that? Demand that of him? Oswald wasn't at liberty to say no … If he didn't … Oswald walked up the stairs and to the bedroom they were in the night before.

7


	6. Open Up Now

Chapter 6

Murphy managed to stammer out a reluctant "Yes, ma'am," blushing furiously, before heading up the stairs after Oswald. If she was going to complain that they were lazy, why wouldn't she just let them get back to doing their jobs? This was the second night in a row that Miss. Mooney had ordered Murphy away from bartending… And he really desperately needed those tips. On top of that, he didn't put it past Mooney to dock both their wages for it. He was going to have a hell of a time explaining this next time his ID guy came to collect on the fake ID he was still paying off. And now Oswald probably hated him more than ever; hell, he might even think that Murphy had somehow planned this demented scenario. Once he arrived in the bedroom, he closed the door and said quietly:

"Look, you don't actually have to do this, okay? We can tell her you did if she asks, but… I just want to make it clear that's not actually going to happen."

Oswald looked at him. "You can't lie to Miss. Mooney, she'd fire us both … That is if we're lucky, that's all she'd do." He said numbly stepping forward and reaching out for Murphy's belt. He pulled it loose and went for the button of his pants.

Murphy's eyes widened. "Wait," he said, grabbing both of Oswald's hands and attempting to pry them away from his pants. "Just… wait. Stop. You don't want to do this." He stared back into Oswald's eyes. "She won't find out, okay? No one has to know. I know you don't really want this, so just… just stop."

Oswald looked down at the ground, his hands dropping to his sides. "Fine …" He said stepping back from him. "I don't know why she would think you'd want me anyway." He said sitting down on the bed.

Murphy stared at him in confusion. "Wait… what? Are you … disappointed?" That made no sense at all. Oswald very clearly didn't want Murphy touching him, so where the hell was this coming from?

"It's hard to be disappointed when you're always expecting the worst. So no … Mr. Fletcher, I am not disappointed." He said though he was clearly lying. Oswald pushed himself back so he was sitting in the middle of the bed, his knees loosely hugged to his chest.

Murphy looked back at Oswald, trying to puzzle through a maze of mixed signals and figure out why this of all things was upsetting him. "Wait," said Murphy, comprehension dawning. "You think you're undesirable? Is that it?"

Oswald smirked bitterly. "Of course I'm undesirable … Who in their right mind would even want to touch me? Talk about a face only a mother could love." He said bitterly, the words coming out of his mouth not his own, but the bullies from school.

Murphy actually burst out laughing. He knew he shouldn't, that Oswald was serious, and if he actually felt that way it was no laughing matter, but… it just seemed so ridiculous to him. "I'm sorry," he said, making himself stop. "But that's just complete bullshit." He looked back at Oswald, his expression more earnest now. "I mean, I can't say for sure whether I'm in my right mind, but…" He was weirdly nervous about saying this. But the situation couldn't possibly get more awkward than it already was. "I actually… am attracted to you," he said quietly. "I just… didn't want to make you uncomfortable. That's all."

Oswald scoffed. "You're having a laugh." He said shaking his head. "You don't have to lie to me. I already know I'm hideous … I look like a Penguin, as everybody loves to remind me of."

"You… really believe that, don't you?" said Murphy quietly. He walked over and sat down on the side of the bed, still leaving Oswald plenty of space. "I don't care how many times you've heard that. People are cruel bastards, as you made a point of telling me last night," he said, looking Oswald directly in the eyes. "But that doesn't make them right. For one thing, they've clearly never seen a penguin. The proportions just don't match up." He wanted to reach out and put a hand on Oswald's shoulder, but didn't. "Just… cards all on the table here, I've been… kind of drawn to you from the start. And… and Mooney was right; I couldn't keep my eyes off of you in that suit tonight. It's not that I don't want you, it's just… I kept thinking about how you panicked last night when I just tried to examine your ribs and… I just didn't want to put you in a situation where you felt that way again," he said. "I want you, believe me I do, but … not like this."

Oswald sighed, his hand going to his shirt and tugging it out of his pants. He lifted the material until Murphy could see the dark black and blue bruise on this ribs, a yellowish tinge around the edges. But underneath that were three rather nasty looking scars.

"It had nothing to do with you touching me ... I just ..." He paused putting his shirt back down. "I don't like people seeing them." He said unsure really why he was showing Murphy now. Perhaps because he had control over showing him and wasn't being forced. The scars were something he had been ashamed of for years. He even hated his mother seeing them.

At least now though, Murphy would see just how repulsive he was. He didn't understand why Murphy was lying to him.

He was already willing to do what Mooney requested, why bother playing with him? There was no way Murphy could find him ... Appealing. He was far too short, his nose too large, his hands shook, he stuttered too much, his nose was beak like and seemed to be perpetually red and running in the winter, despite being so thin he had a bit of a belly on him which he couldn't get rid of no matter what he did, he had dark bags under his bug eyes and his ears were too large and stuck out.

Doesn't exactly paint a pretty picture. And that wasn't even counting his oddly cut hair which seemed to be three different lengths despite his hair cut.

Upon seeing the scars, Murphy managed to keep from showing much of a facial reaction. He'd seen more than his share of nasty injuries, and Oswald was clearly self-conscious about them. But he also knew that those had to have been painful at one point… Why did everything seem to keep happening to Oswald? "How did it happen?" he asked quietly, then quickly added. "If you don't mind my asking, that is."

Oswald shook his head and leaned back against the headboard. "Um ..." He looked up at the ceiling wondering if he should tell him, but really there wasn't much Murphy could do with the information.

"The first one happened when I was eight. A guy I went to school with found his dad's hunting knife and snuck it to school. He had his friends pin me down on the playground while everyone else watched. He was going to cut his name into my stomach ... But only got the T and part of the Y before the teachers heard me screaming. I was bleeding so badly they didn't have enough time to properly freeze me before they started stitching me up ... I needed 47 stitches. The second one I was twelve. We were on a wilderness field trip and some kids from school cornered me by a very steep hill. One kid named Tommy pushed me down the hill, thought it would be funny and I landed on a broken log. Unfortunately there was a broken branch where I landed and it went straight in. I was rushed to the hospital and pronounced dead for five minutes before the doctors brought me back." Oswald said running his fingers over the scar through the fabric of his shirt.

"The last one ..." Oswald paused. The last one was the hardest for him to talk about. "I ... I was fourteen. My ..." Oswald paused again his hand moving away from the scar. "My father ... Got a little rougher than usual ... He was drunk one night and my mom and my brothers were out ..." He shivered at the thought of what happened that night. "He always blamed me for being different ... For being ugly ... Not normal ... He wanted another normal son and he ended up with me. He didn't like that so ... He ... He tried to get rid of me."

Murphy had winced several times through the first two stories; those were bad enough. But at the last one, his eyes widened in shock. Oswald's own father had actually tried to...? What kind of man would even... Murphy was silent for a long moment. How was he even supposed to respond to something like that? What could he possibly say that would be at all helpful?

Oswald's voice sounded hollow as he continued. "He planned the whole thing ... Despite being so drunk ..." Oswald laughed and shook his head. "He uh ... Opened the window in my room before I came home ... My room was the only one without a fire escape ... We fought, he called me some things, I yelled at him back ... He grabbed me and pulled me into my room. I thought he was going to beat me like usual but ... He pulled me towards the window-"

Murphy reached over impulsively and put a hand on Oswald's shoulder, as if trying to pull him out of that memory and back into the present. "You don't have to say any more," he said, his voice slightly shaky. "I… think I get the idea."

Oswald looked up at Murphy as if he were surprised that he was there, as if he'd forgotten he was talking to someone. "I ... I'm sorry ... I ..."

Murphy shook his head. "Don't be," he said.. "That… that's terrible. All of it. Did… did anyone ever do anything about it?" It occurred to him that maybe he was overstepping his boundaries to just put his hand on Oswald's shoulder like that… but Oswald didn't seem upset by it at the moment, so he left it there.

"No." Oswald said. "Police don't care about a poor kid from the Narrows. I was in the hospital for four months before they sent me back home with him. He acted as if nothing happened. Still beat me on occasion, would give my brothers things while I got nothing ... Locked me in the closet if he had one of his 'girls' over while mom was out." Oswald leaned his head back against the headboard and looked at Murphy.

"You have no idea the amount of times I've fantasized about getting revenge ... Being the one to take my anger out on him ..." He shook his head looking forward again.

Murphy looked back at him intently, and asked: "Did you ever get the chance?" A part of him seriously hoped that the answer to that was yes, that he'd been able to claim some semblance of control over his life that way, even if only for a moment. Right now, the image that Murphy had of Oswald's life seemed relentlessly bleak, in the past and the present alike.

"No ..." Oswald said. "He took my brother's and left one year. Left me and my mother alone. Which I preferred, at least we didn't have to deal with him anymore."

"Well," Murphy said. "At least… at least he couldn't hurt you anymore." He wasn't sure if that was the right thing to say. Maybe Oswald had felt disappointed that it had ended that way, that he'd never gotten the chance to fully retaliate. Maybe he was just relieved that it was over. "How did she take all of this?" asked Murphy. "Your mother, I mean."

"My mother ... She's ..." Oswald tried to think of a word to describe his mother but came up with nothing. "My mother was always aware of everything where I was concerned. The bullying, the abuse ... So she paid more attention to me ... I was always her special boy and could do no wrong ... I think the fact that my father didn't take me is what kept her going."

Murphy nodded. "That... kind of makes sense," he said. Granted, it might have been more helpful if she'd actually done something about all the hell Oswald had been going through … but she might not have really been able to. Murphy didn't know the situation well enough to judge. Of course… if you treated someone like they were perfect, that made it hard to see them for who they really were. Murphy felt like he was beginning to piece it all together; just about everyone had always either ignored Oswald or treated him like garbage, with the exception of his mother… who didn't always see the real him. No wonder Oswald didn't seem to think much of himself.

"I… had no idea," he said after a moment, shaking his head. "About any of this… I'm sorry that all of those things happened to you." There was no reason for any of it. None at all. What the hell was wrong with humanity?

Oswald laughed bitterly. "Welcome to Gotham ... I sadly haven't had it the worst here. My story is actually quite common. You'll learn soon enough."

Murphy sighed. "I'll just take your word for it," he said. "People can be pretty terrible just about anywhere… I guess I shouldn't be so shocked if Gotham lives up to its reputation."

Oswald looked over at Murphy. "So I gave you my sob story. What tragic event brought you here?"

Murphy stiffened slightly. "What makes you think there's a tragic event?" he said with his most convincing smile. "Maybe I'm just here for the crime and debauchery." He glanced away and changed the subject. "Look, about what happened downstairs… I swear I wasn't trying to make things worse for you. I had no idea she'd take things in the direction that she did… I really am sorry about that."

Oswald shrugged. "It not the worst thing that's happened to me, as you now well know." He said looking over to him. "After showing you the scars and telling you ... All that stuff. Do you still find me desirable?" He asked as casually as if he were asking about the weather.

Murphy looked back at him. Was all that supposed to change his mind? Why would he like Oswald less because of things that were beyond his control? "Yes," he said simply. "But you still don't believe me, do you."

Oswald shook his head. "Not really." He said simply. To be honest he wasn't sure how he felt about Murphy being attracted to him if he was telling the truth.

"Why not?" Murphy asked. "I don't see what's so hard to believe about it." Then again, he was looking at Oswald from his own perspective, where he didn't have to question it. "Look," he sighed. "If, everything else aside, you did believe me… how would you feel about that?"

Oswald stayed silent a few moments before rubbing his hand down his face. "About someone being attracted to me? Or the fact that we're the same gender?"

"Both," said Murphy, trying to read the expression on Oswald's face, as if it would answer his question for him. Of course, he also wanted to know what Oswald thought of him in particular… but given the circumstances, that might not be possible yet. "I mean… I don't even know if you like men."

Oswald laughed quietly. "Neither do I." He said honestly. "I suppose I've always been curious but ... I've never been with one before. Then again I've never been with a female before either so how do I know if I like them either?"

"I would highly recommend both," quipped Murphy with a smile. "Though not everyone would agree." He paused for a moment, his expression more serious again. "But… would you be interested at all in maybe... trying to find out?"

Oswald thought about it for a few moments, his body shivering with sudden nerves. "Um ... Well ... I-I-I ... I guess ... I mean ... I've never ..."

Murphy gently touched the side of Oswald's face. "We don't have to do this all at once," he said. "I don't think going all the way tonight would be a good idea anyway." Given the circumstances, even if Oswald said he was sure, Murphy would always wonder if he was just doing this because he thought he had to. That was the last thing he wanted. "And if you decide you don't like it, just say so, and I promise that'll be it." Then he leaned in and kissed him, still half certain that Oswald would pull away.


End file.
